Her patience was waning fast. Mike offered twice to beat John up, but Lucy talked him out of it much to his disappointment. She answered slowly. Wood. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him.
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