’ Gerald’s jaw tightened. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. " Ruth laughed. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely.
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