" "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. . A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away.
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