Without a word, without a sign, Enschede started toward the beach, where his proa waited. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. Vorsack looked pale and pink. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. And there's your liver. Perhaps at the first blush—it strikes you as odd. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. Nothing seemed to be amiss. ‘In this case, I will not kill him at all, even that he should have remained to wait for my letter. Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course.
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