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She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. “The fellow seems to know your name, Miss Pellissier, and that you have lived in Paris. . But—” The tired woman raised her eyebrows in mild protest. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly.
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