Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. On the left there were doors communicating with the King's Bench Ward and the Stone Ward, two large holds on the Master Debtors' side. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago.
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