Don’t you know I disinherited the rogue?’ ‘This we knew, milor’,’ said Valade. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. “Please forgive me, Lucy. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. He turned the water off and handed her a towel.
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