Her thick body was heavy and massive. She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. The evenings were dulcet and soft. She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening.
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