A small yellow cur came in under the batwing doors. “Boy, I think you’ve made a mistake,” he said in a kindly voice. His cheeks burned with high color that looked like windburn rather than drink, and his pale eyes lay in nets of wrinkles. “Roland?” he asked.
She turned toward him, eyes rueful. ”Trying to remember how he had danced with her that night. Thankee-sai. if ye don’t mind me asking?”“Not at all,” he said, looking up at her with a smile.
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