"Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. . ’ ‘A pretty tale. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. I want her to get forward, to set her among people who'll understand what to do with her. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. I don’t know. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. "Don't ask me about it now.
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