Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. ” Anna shook her head. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. Do you think a jeune demoiselle may possess more weapons than this?’ ‘Most young ladies would not be in possession of any weapons,’ Gerald said tartly. ’ ‘I don’t even know your granddaughter, ma’am. “Everything will follow,” she said. You'll do.
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