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\" Michelle's shoulders sank, feeling the weight of the pack. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. Go on. Let us stay the night here. She wanted to be alone. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. The theme was a masquerade. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. It's of no use. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. \"No, what?\" She said.
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