‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. You’d make a good Devil. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home.
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