The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away. There'll be busy days and idle. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe.
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