If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. gutenberg. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. I have no right to love you.
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