She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. 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 was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. She was slowed down by the icy wind that punctuated itself in screams around houses and trees. “You can’t think that I’m fool enough to be put off like this.
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