"By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. What a pig she was. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. Sheppard.
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