’ ‘Yes, but I’m afraid I am far too interested to stop mixing myself in your affairs,’ Gerald said ruefully. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. . ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. But he reckoned without his host. It creaked slightly.
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