‘Now then, missie. He asked me out two days ago and I thought, hell, why not?” Michelle answered. Plainly. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. She snapped out of her blissful state and looked at him squarely in the eyes. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it.
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