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... ded on Argider's hand.

"Wrong!" Smack! This time, right to the hips.

"WRONG!" A swift tap to the toes.

Every stumble, every misstep, every accidental swagger was met with Madam Phirya's trusty stick, which seemed to have its own keen sense of propriety.

Argider's walk was adjusted, her manners meticulously refined, and her posture straightened until she embodied the very image of ladylike decorum—or at least that was the plan.

As always, Argider repeatedly ...

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