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“No, not that I know of,” Michelle replied, her still eyes not meeting Lucy’s. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Sheppard. I wonder if he really wants me to go home. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. Did you warn Frith?’ ‘Yes. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.

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