The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. The Wastrel did not relish this. ’ Authority had won again, Gerald thought with satisfaction. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. I just wanted a breath of air. Yet you knew that I was not dead.
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