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Jonathan, sporting a seventies hairstyle one hundred years
ahead of its time manipulated the Countess' hair like a
skilled surgeon.
"God, I'm good," he thought.
The Countess meanwhile, was in a world of her own.
"Desmond's going to need a midget during his trip to
Bratislava, but we can't afford not to have Perkins at the
house. Where, oh where does one find a good midget these
days?"
