She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. ‘Point it at me. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. "That's a good story, lad.
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