“She was the High Priestess who turned me in Greece, before Rome. She prevaricated. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back. Still —there you are!” He paused. Predictably, Charvill turned on him.
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