That, I think, is manifest. "I'm armed; you are not. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. Gerald’s chest tightened. I’ll come and see you again later on. " There was a brief, breathless pause. Then he sensed the trap. Michelle listed the items in her pack. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. At the Palazzo, the cook’s cook had a team of servants under him.
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