‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. "Not my king's," returned Wood. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. Would Gerald wish his friend to follow the man? He had hardly registered the decision that he had best do so, albeit with some reluctance, when his trained senses alerted him to an extraordinary circumstance.
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