Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. “Was I not strong enough when you flogged me for leaning over the oubliette? Who tells you these things? The physician, Sebastianus? Am I not sovereign enough to judge what is happening to my own body?\" She demanded.
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