" "In what way, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, in astonishment. 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. I shan't let you off a farthing. ‘Yes, miss. ’ Which effectually silenced her. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. Knap.
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