"Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. ” A man who had been sitting with his hat tilted over his eyes at an adjacent table had risen to his feet and stood suddenly before them. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. Sheppard. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers.
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