“But in His great mercy He did not,” he swallowed again, “but sent His saint unto us.” He raised his head and coughed, and blood rushed out over both of them, saturating his chest and her knees. She wiped at it frantically, trying to stop it, trying to keep his head up, and she couldn’t see through her tears to wipe the blood away. “And I’m no use,” she said, wiping at her tears. “Why do you weep?” he said. “You saved my life,” she said, and her voice caught in a sob, “and I can’t save yours.” “All men must die,” Roche said, “and none, nor even Christ, can save them.” “I know,” she said. She
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