To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. Then he was surrounded by black-clad nuns, and Melusine felt an unknown hand grab away her own sword. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. "Sometimes a cup of lies is a cheering thing," replied the trader.
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