Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. She could not help thinking of Capes. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. Charvill’s command of French was enough to tell him that, for its entire content was devoted to commending Nicholas Charvill’s fourteen year old daughter into the care of the Abbess. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally.
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