"The two turned towards the front of the wagon. Two figures, swords in hand, walked around the pair of horses who had calmly waited throughout the cri...sis. They were dressed, not in finery, but in the well kept clothing of those who saw some money come their way. The man was tall, easily six foot, with a build that seemed mostly lean muscle. His short hair was black, framing a face that was at once serious yet not unfamiliar to a smile. Beside him, a youth with similar hair regarded Jack with. This is a festivity which has roots going far back into the pagan and pre Celtic past of this country where each year is re-enacted an ancient pagan sacrifice of a young maiden as an appeasement of the fertility gods." Bollocks!" said Professor Potts-Johnson in his reedy and querulous tones. "And the full name of that one-horse arse hole of the universe is Little Sprodwell under Fosse - God help us all!" I beg your pardon, Professor, but I have this on the very best authority. The trouble with. We hadn’t found anything suitable in this area, so we’d reluctantly started moving our search farther north. We stopped as we turned down Comstock just to look out over the Sound and the cruise ship terminal. It was a great view.“I’ll miss living up here,” I said as we turned to head home.“Why not there,” Kate said, pointing. There was a for sale sign in front of what looked like a modest entry. It was a nicely landscaped Tudor with high hedges blocking the view from the street.“Sure. Let’s. ” They both held their giggles to normal gossiping volume levels.They each got up from their seats and carried the drinks with them as they followed Mark to a large staircase beyond the bar area. Once at the top of the stairs, despite this being the dining room, a large space devoid of chairs or tables served as a deterrent to those wandering to the tables on the other side of the room.After the owner led them across and to their table, each person sat down. Martin held the seat out for his.