“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. Best assured of that. Imbecile. " "So it is, child. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie.
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