’ The lady’s gaze dwelled thoughtfully on the half-drawn sword and then came up to meet his, an odd look in her eyes. Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. His new wife’s face was sweet and angelic with hair the color of flax, her belly already visibly large beneath a roe skin pelt. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend.
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