, like to forget all about it—even their names. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. . ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. It’s on the horse. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. “I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you.
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