He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. Manning’s letter. She floundered deep.
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