’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. ‘Not kill me, I mean. Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Certainly not a gentlewoman. It had been a trying day. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it.
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