Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. "You've arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland," observed the thief-taker. A pretty name for a pretty girl. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. “Is it your maid?” he asked. Still no sound. . ’ The listening soldiers began to snigger behind their hands. "Come along, my sly shaver.
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