The first peg was torture. ” She said as she rested her head against his chest, eyes unfocused on the fading sky. He looked at her, hurt. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him. You will have to tell me. ” She spat in his face. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. It was a unique experience for her to wash him.
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