She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. And he unsheathed his sword. ‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. "That's for Winifred," vociferated the Amazon, bringing the cudgel heavily upon his shoulder. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea.
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