She could not say a word, much less move. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. But it was not adieu, so she promised her old nurse. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. That bruise will answer the same purpose.
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