A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ‘I’ll handle her better alone. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. "Pick up that blade, Nab," vociferated Wild, finding himself hotly pressed, "and stab him.
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