That bruise will answer the same purpose. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. “Because I hate you!” She spat. ‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you. And they’ll shut the gates presently. Let me have a word with him, and you may take all the money.
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