As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption. Ten years of military life had taught him caution, but only strengthened a fearless zest for diving into any promising adventure with unalloyed enjoyment. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. Go back at once, please. “You certainly are. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least.
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