She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. He leaned forward to embrace her. “The Widgetts,” she said. She followed the official back into his room. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. “My child, I do not wish.
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