He glanced up. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. ’ ‘But she must have known I’d longed to hear of you.
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