Nevertheless, she was still fighting. Sebastian drank deeply and quickly of her blood. “When can we be alone together?” She asked him, never loosening her grip. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers.
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