Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. Lucy simply added her own good night, even though a significant part of her wanted to call Cathy mother, she refrained.
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