She unlocked the top drawer of the roll-top desk, took out a bottle and a glass and poured herself a snort.
Reivers! he bellowed. His valet appeared — or really, it seemed rather more like he apparated — in the doorway.
Reivers!
Outside, the stately oaks, rooted for ages in the green ground which has never known ploughshare, but was still a chase when kings rode to battle with sword and shield and rode a-hunting with bow and arrow, bear witness to his greatness.
I leaned and looked over the aloed arch.
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