Too late now. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. “Good, I’m so glad, Lucy. After all, that was life.
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