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An Exercise in Dialogue

Alexander leaned forward in his chair. “You mean to tell me,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing on the figure sitting before him, “that your Martha, your precious Martha, has been having an affair?”

“Yes,” Sebastian replied while adjusting his petticoat. “Yes, I have it on good authority. One of my agents has had her followed.” He inhaled the aroma of champagne fizzing in his glass and downed the drink completely. “I do believe I know with whom as well.”

Alexander shuffled and looked uncomfortable. “A dumb bastard to mess around with Mrs. Prichard, I’d say. Who is this fellow, then? Tell me,” Alexander cupped his champagne flute and resumed his reclined position in the leather armchair, “does this fellow know what he’s getting himself in to?”

Sebastian rose from his seat and hovered near the fire. Sparks crackled from within and sent a shower of embers up through the flume. “Why, my dear Alexander,” Sebastian said, reaching for a pistol that rested upon the mantle piece, “I cannot fathom that he does.”

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