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unwise to allow Alinor free rein with her own vassals lest her independence grow too large to be easily curbed. |
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"Indeed I will," Alinor agreed joyfully. |
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Simon looked away. He was distressed by her sweet trustfulness and by his part in encouraging it. In this he did both Alinor and her major vassals an injustice. Sweet trustfulness was not a fault of theirs. |
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"Thus," he continued, having mastered his feeling by promising himself that no loss would come to her as long as he could protect her, "I do not know whether a message will come commanding us to join her tomorrow or will not come for weeks. It behooves me to finish my part as soon as possible." |
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Naturally enough Sir John and Sir Andre excused themselves as soon as they could without making it seem that Simon had driven them away. But Simon did not take advantage of their departure to get to his duties. He stared down the length of the hall, idly watching the menservants and maidservants throwing the edible refuse to the floor for the scavenging dogs and cats (and rats) and gathering the more palatable leftovers to be given as alms at the gates. The sound of their low talk and laughter drifted to him. It occurred to him that it must be very pleasant to be the master of so happy and well-run an estate. |
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Seeing that Simon was occupied with his own thoughts, Alinor had fallen silent. A well-brought-up woman did not intrude upon a man's thoughts. He was not unaware of her. She had caught a single swift glance he gave her without turning his head. What it meant, she did not know, but she was pleased that at the moment she had been half-smiling, patiently attentive. Because his eyes moved so swiftly away again, she did not see the bitterness in them. Simon was thinking that such a wife as Alinor, with her beauty, kindness, and intelligence was not for him, nor such an estate either. He was poor, she was rich; |
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