She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. She understood. “Grail!” said Ann Veronica, and then: “Oh, yes—of course! Anything but a holy one, I’m afraid. It is not the woman who speaks there.
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