Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. ’ ‘Damnation!’ Gerald burst out, crossing towards her. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. " "Ship her back to her father"—sagely. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist.
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