That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. “She was the High Priestess who turned me in Greece, before Rome. ‘Then I don’t advise you to visit Remenham House.
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