Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. ” He looked at her intently.
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