I jumped then—I was not even shaken. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. “Stop! Don’t put your face there. “I ought to have done. I miss them so. The sword, Jacques. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand.
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