She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage.
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