In military circles, highly exaggerated tales of Major Alderley’s derring-do were bruited from lip to lip and passed on to raw recruits to strengthen morale. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. "Off with him to Newgate!" cried Jonathan. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. She's not for pleasure, but for work. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. ‘That way.
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