’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men. He was interesting and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive were at best only suggestive. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. He was an odd one, especially for a young man. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. I’ve made an ally of her champion.
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