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The Ye Olde Tavern
“Parting so soon?”
“Yes, my husband awaits me.”
He could smell her lie. Leaving his brandy, he weaved through the tavern tables.
The drunk prodded her skirt. “But aren’t I better company?”
He made his final advance, bursting through the exit; but at his feet, the drunk was wincing.
The damsel shook out her fist.
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