“Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. A Madame Valade and her husband. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands.
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