Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. The boy would never know just how lucky he was. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. And Leonardo told me never to trust any man.
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