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Certainly not a gentlewoman. Maggot. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. A sea voyage under sail will be the making of him.
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