The spirit of disaffection was busy throughout the kingdom. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ” “And I,” Brendon said, humbly, “although I am afraid there is no chance for me, my errand was the same. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful.
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