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“So am I. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Never mind. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. How Jack Sheppard got rid of his Irons. " "My coat, please. Mike sat down, his body too large for the petite blue couch. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely.
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