She frowned, appearing to think for a moment. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. . I keep my finger on the pulse of things. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas.
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