The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. . If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off.
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