His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. S. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face.
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