Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. Rousing himself, he went to the door. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House. It would be the wrappered world almost at its best.
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