He raised his gun as another pheasant flew towards him, then swore as it crashed prematurely to the ground. ' 'Never grumble about fan mail,' chided Charles. 'Come and have a drink,' he said. You're having Rupert trouble.
'Rupert?'The Duke nodded. ' To a restaurant?' 'No, a private house. Maud would disintegrate; I can't afford to fall out with Rupert. Gertrude charged ahead leaping into drifts, tunnelling the snow with her snout.
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