The boy had all kinds of opportunity; but it's the old story of father making it too easy. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. But you belong to me—and I want you. Sheppard. Not for me. “You love some one else?” he repeated. Where is Sebastianus? I am Rhea.
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