A sob was strangled in her throat. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. Jackson had one of the ugliest countenances imaginable, he had a very fine set of teeth. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. People were passing in the street below. He walked in her direction. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted.
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