‘Imbecile. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. ‘Yes, miss. Lest the carpenter should be taxed with too much uxoriousness, it behoves us to ascertain whether the personal attractions of his helpmate would, in any degree, justify the devotion he displayed. You are the High Priestess of Life. \" His tone was weak and conciliatory. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. And I want you for myself—for my wife. I care for you. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. ‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss.
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