Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. You two have a good time. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said.
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