Monday: Let him go now, when she
had only just found him?
Tuesday: She shot up from the
stool and ran to her husband's side as William spewed a mouthful of ale across
the table and burst into a coughing fit.
Wednesday: “What folderol you’ve learned to recite, Rob.”
Thursday: “Ye always made yer own choices, Rob, and remember
what it cost ye.”
Friday: But in truth, the folly had already been done.
Saturday: Only one thought had rushed into his mind then,
thrumming out everything else: This. This is my chance.
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