And I don't want anything of yours destroyed, Hoddy. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. It was easy to discern Gianfrancesco’s mood. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice.
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