“Badger me, you mean.” Angrily Revell thumped his fists on the back of the chair. He hated it when his brother lectured him in this bemused paternal fashion, as if there were twenty years between them instead of two. “Damnation, Brant, what kind of idiot do you take me for? I know exactly why you’ve come, and it’s not for some blasted plum pudding!”
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