He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. ‘Possibly,’ he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, pervert?” “Yes sir. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy.
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