Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. ’ ‘I didn’t bring him,’ Gerald returned swiftly. ” “Yes. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder.
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