She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. Stanley, at the door.
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