" "Mr. "I am sorry. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is.
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