Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. "Do you take me for as great a villain as yourself, Sir?" said the knight, rising. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up.
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