It can wait a bit longer. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. " The Wastrel laughed. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. Will you please—Not now, or I must go. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly.
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