‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. But that title he would not endure. ’ He frowned again. ‘Bête. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. I rather want them.
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