‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. ’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile. "How goes it?" he began, heartily. She glared at him with satisfaction.
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