What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. Do not underestimate my power. I didn’t know. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. Behind the poet came Sir James Thornhill. But I was portentous, I can assure you. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned.
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