She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. The floor was planked with oak, and covered with iron staples, hooks, and ringbolts, with heavy chains attached to them. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord.
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