Her Defenders The shorter man gawked like a turkey, the taller darting in his wake a tenuous shadow until they passed a doorway and a feeble luminance fell across them. The first was short and lively, expression flickering with as much caprice as a sputtering candle; his flesh wagged as he spoke, as he gesticulated wildly, an old boisterous hound battened on to a hare's trail. His companion was tall and spare, moved with a low swooping stride, hands folded at his waist and stern angular face rigid.
"Yes, my lord." These were his lines, read dutifully from his script, provided to him for his part in this production he could scarcely follow.
"And we must attack at once!"
"Yes, my lord."
"At ONCE." The shorter man's chins wobbled as if they would fain escape,