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He drew a little breath and stepped back. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. It'll be turning over to-morrow. ’ No Latin? And no guns or daggers, naturally. Kneebone.
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