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‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. ” He smiled at her. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in.
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