She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. “I am going,” he said, “to be impertinent. We come out into the world, some of us—” She paused.
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