Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. ” She said. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John.
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