She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. ” He referred to a sheet of paper by his side.
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