If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. ‘You should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings.
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