“It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. “Julian, please wait. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance. We will beg our bread and our shelter, and our passage on a boat. She’s already spoken for.
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