If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. Then Mr. “Hi Lucy. ’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. I swear it. The commissionaire smiled. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. A dissipated, loose-living man.
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