They were sharp and dripping with black blood. “I dare not,” she answered. “You remind me of the story which they tell against us over here, you know—of the Englishman who refused to be saved from drowning because he was unacquainted with his rescuer. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked.
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