A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced.
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