After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. I’m taking no chances. It'll be your turn to save mine next. He will let you live if it pleases him. ” She pulled her dress back over her breasts, glad for the elastic that she had sewn in. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. Mademoiselle has had no harm of me,’ Gerald said soothingly and bowed. ‘Very well, Kimble.
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