She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. Then she was turning, ignoring the muttered cursing and the rattling that immediately ensued at the door. It had been removed from the scabbard by the Jew. ’ ‘Do not say so.
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