Swordpoint
“There was only one word: Delay.'D.E' explained Alec, chalking it on the hearth with a burnt twig-end, 'that spells de. L.A.Y., lay. Delay.'Richard eased the note into the fire, where it burned merrily for a few seconds.'Waste of perfectly good paper,' Alec protested. 'It was hardly written on!''Never mind,' Richard said; 'when Tremontaine pays me the 30 advance, I can buy you a sheaf. Is that the same D that's in Richard?''Ver-ry good!' Alec drawled, diverted. 'And in Diane. And duchess. There ...is, of course,' he added daintily, 'no D in Alec''Of course.' Richard picked up a practice sword, nimbly sidestepping the small grey kitten the neighbourhood cat-lady had foisted on them in return for a gift of wood ('Removing the poor thing from evil influences,' Alec had said, accepting). The kitten loved moving swordpoints.'You'll have time for Michael Godwin now,' Alec said brightly.'Horn's job? I thought you wrote him a letter.''I did. But you could change your mind.''I don't think so.' Richard stopped, the tip of his sword just out of kitten jumping range.MoreLess
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