Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. ‘And since the entire company and Pottiswick himself were unable to find hide nor hair of the infernal French female—’ ‘English, Hilary,’ Gerald reminded him.
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