There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. Two shots were fired, and presently the clashing of swords was heard below. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. It’s one of our conventional superstitions.
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