She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. It's my way when I'm ruffled. ” And to that, through vast rhetorical meanderings, she clung. Or perhaps my father once. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. . I'm ready to bear it all.
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