Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. . Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly.
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