The three of them laughed joyously. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. Nevertheless, she was still fighting. I was raised in the Church. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger.
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