The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. “Hey John, how’s it going?” “Hey Michelle. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. Do not mistake me.
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