Diane Vorsack tried to disguise the fact that she was livid, her daughter’s buffoonery having driven off the prestigious dinner guests before the after-dinner drinks could be served. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. It was from Brendon. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. You understand me, Charcoal. Her unnatural calm was giving way. My sister made me over, you know. “The unaccountable thing is that I wouldn’t go home to please her. The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket.
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