The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her. Well, let him be honest. “Very sexy. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. I rarely set foot in London these days.
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