She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. ’ There was a pause. Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. I never saw a man who wasn't.
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