She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. " "Hadn't you better hold a moment's parley with the gentlemen before proceeding to extremities?" suggested Jonathan. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Easy enough. It was cramped even at the end of the passage. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt.
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