“Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. Sheppard; "most fortunate for me.
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