“There it is again: that particularly deadly sin of pride. I succumb to it often. It will be the death of me yet.” “Ah, but who among us will be the agent?” “It won’t be thee,” he said, and he went to her. He stood so close that she could feel his breath on her face. “And why is that?” He looked at her intently. “Because, I think, we are much alike.” “In what fashion? We know each other but little.” “A falcon knows its kin at a very great distance.” “And its prey.” He smiled. “Exactly. I am in thy talons.” Then he leaned in closer still, and she felt him taking her right hand in his. “And,
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