’ ‘That is what you thought of me. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. ” He demanded as she opened her eyes and stopped moaning. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs.
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