Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. “Yeah,” Shari nodded enthusiastically. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. When she arrived at the Palazzo, not a single sentry was aware of her presence. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral.
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