She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. Burn your palette and your easel. " Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle.
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