Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. ” She laid her fingers for a moment upon his arm. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison.
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