He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. She’s taken my sword. ” “I’ll wait, then. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. ‘Has this capitaine of yours not yet rid us of this Emile? What can he find to say to him?’ ‘Don’t be impatient,’ Gerald said, rising too and coming to draw her away from the door.
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