But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later.
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