Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. I will marry you when Sir John gets his divorce, and I will do all I can to keep you out of harm.
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