‘You obstinate little devil. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. “But I am your husband,” he said. "The Dawn Pearl," he said. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her.
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