“Take my advice,” he said hoarsely. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. In fact, one of them was downright sceptical.
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