"Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. ‘Soi-disant? Then he is not Valade?’ ‘How can I know?’ she countered crossly. , like to forget all about it—even their names.
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