And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. “I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. Idiote. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. Bullding?” “Stout old gentleman four places down on the left. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. She had gladly lowered her eyes as she had been instructed to in front of the fine ladies and lords, as she was more interested in their clothing and fripperies than their faces. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “Fuck you, Julian Rimbauer. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone.
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