Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes.
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