‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. ‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat.
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