And yet—I love you. Perhaps at the first blush—it strikes you as odd. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. That is not reasonable. "The gentleman under the table," she answered. " "I'm sure I'm very sorry.
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