One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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