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‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. ’ Lucilla gaped. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. “You seem to forget that my sister is—married. I'm heading for bed. I believe that I have heard my sister speak of you. “I ought to have done.
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