He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. You are afraid of the warmth in your blood. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl.
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