Author:
Duke Gregory Hunt
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Date Posted: 15:48:57 10/21/01 Sun
In reply to:
Lady Cassidy
's message, "Nods...." on 15:09:33 10/19/01 Fri
He shakes his head, giving a smile. "I fear you misunderstand my words. Beaulieu Abbey is reluctant to allow women visitors because of the obvious: They are monks, and monks as you know have taken vows of chastity, poverty, etcetera. They are Cisterian brothers, who are very devout. Do not take their abstinence from women personally. It is their way of life." His smile stays, warming his face briefly. Short dark curls are damp with seaspray, droplets clinging to his hair, and the mane of his slate-grey steed. Brooding eyes return to the seascape before them, drinking in the panorama with appreciation. Stormclouds gather at the horizon, catching his eye. He motions for a halt, watching the bruised clouds roll forward, slowly, but evidentially bound for them. He gives a crooked smile, eyes still on the storm. "Perhaps it is best to return to the Tor? I can survey the remaining lands at a later date, and I would not wish such a lady to catch cold."
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