Lord, I am sixty. Practically all. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady.
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