Her lips were dry and cracked. "I am, Charcoal. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ” “Lucy, my disbelief remains in suspension. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly.
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