‘Civilian peace-keeping forces, you know. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future.
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