Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. ‘Imbecile. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents.
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