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She recoiled. ‘And take you this sword. He and her father shook hands manfully. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. Find your man, that’s the rule. ” “By all means,” Brendon answered. Shari was snoring soundly.
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