She recoiled. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. "I've waited supper, you perceive. Catch him, she begged silently. She forced herself not to think of John. Sheppard, falling on her knees. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography.
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