Horace sniffed the pleasant smell of wood smoke from the chimney. “Hope they’re cooking something,” he said. “I’m starved.” “Who said that?” Will asked, feigning surprise and looking around in all directions. Then he pretended to relax. “Oh, it’s only you, Horace. I didn’t see you there in that cloak.” Horace favored him with a long-suffering look. “Will, if it wasn’t funny the first half-dozen times you said it, why do you think it would be funny now?” And.
-John Flanagan
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