He suspected a trap. ‘But you know. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. The change in her face was not a pleasant one. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes.
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