Emma M. Lion is no coward, I am pleased to report, for I turned to face him. He did not look comfortable when he said, “We do not know one another very well, and so what I’m about to say may be erroneous.” I meant to laugh but made a strange sound instead, reminiscent of a dying animal. “You say that after today?” I quipped. He smiled sadly. “You have a humour about you, a good deal of natural pluck, for lack of a better word. A general devil-may-care approach to some very serious circumstances.” I couldn’t tell in the moment, and can’t decipher now, if he meant his words to be a compliment or
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