She twisted her fingers tightly. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. . " "A word," cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master's orders. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection.
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