’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. It’s not you—not a bit. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. ’ She advanced towards him.
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