"Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. His perseverance was amply rewarded. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb.
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