Mr. ’ Gerald remained infuriatingly calm. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly.
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