" "What was it?" "Never glance sideways at a man. But Gosse began to drag her towards the door. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
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