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“Bless you, sweetheart. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. ” She shook her head gently. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile.
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