” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. ” He snarled. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Maggot.
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