With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. The Wastrel did not relish this. ’ ‘I am not the imbecile you take me for,’ Gerald said with dangerous calm. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long.
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