Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. Although she had said a great deal when she heard about the shooting that had left poor Jack so badly injured. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. She took up a book and threw it down again. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said.
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