His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. "Of course, I haven't the least evidence that the boy has done anything wrong; it's what I'd call a hunch; piecing this and that together. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak.
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