I could not dream of loving you. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. Her long arms handled the sword with a memorized ease and grace. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent.
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