“And you will try to look dignified, won’t you?” said Lady Sybil, adjusting his cloak. “Yes, dear.” “What will you try to look?” “Dignified, dear.” “And please try to be diplomatic.” “Yes, dear.” “What will you try to be?” “Diplomatic, dear.” “You’re using your ‘henpecked’ voice, Sam.” “Yes, dear.” “You know that’s not fair.” “No, dear.” Vimes raised a hand in a theatrical gesture of submission. “All right, all right. It’s just these feathers. And these tights.” He winced and tried to do some surreptitious rearranging in an effort to prevent himself becoming the city’s first hunchgroin. “I
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