Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. ’ ‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled. " "The pianist?" "Yes. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. Look at the poor victim at your feet. My janizaries shall go with me.
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