” “You shall not need either,” Brendon said grimly. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. I made the pies. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present.
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