As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. “If you speak—farewell. But she must not laugh. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. My first visit will be to you. Though I’ll wager she used this passage, and we certainly ought to investigate it.
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