Fennows pounced on the wine. He finished off a glass in two gulps and poured himself another. He regarded Temmin across the table, as the Heir piled his plate with ham and cold chicken. "D'you mean to tell me you haven't bedded that little darling?"
Temmin's hand paused over the bread basket. He blushed, but said, "It's none of your concern, Fennows," and fished out a roll.
Fennows squinted at him, malice playing around the corners of his mouth. "Touchy! It's true, isn't it? You do qualify for Supplicancy. And at your age, tsk."
"I said, it's none of your concern," said Temmin. He took a fierce bite from a chicken leg.
"Dear me," said Fennows. "I'd be grumpy if I were a virgin, too, I should think. What is it, old thing? Don't like girls? One would assume you do, the way you stare at Allis Obby, but then, perhaps it's Issak Obby who's your ultimate goal? Well, they're a package deal, ain't they."
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Published on January 31, 2011 00:00