If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. " "I mean to say, Sir," answered Mrs. She waited expectantly. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin.
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