‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame.
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