’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. "I read those stories. " "Never," echoed Smith, emphatically, "upon my honour. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. Now go. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. " At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. “I am sick of it. “She seems an unusually clever girl,” said Ramage.
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