She wondered wildly why she had stood up. Wood hadn't struck me. “You need a reason. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways. . ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. So soft. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. ‘I’ll make it, miss.
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