She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. The guineas are not for serving your mistress. I meant to lie to you. “Those were good.
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