She painted on the Root Beer Lip Smackers lip gloss that Shari had bought her last Christmas and rouged her cheeks as she had long ago as she once had for Sebastian. ’ Trodger frowned, and chewed his lip. Ben watched these manoeuvres with great interest, and strained every sinew in his frame to keep ahead of the other boats. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. He remained listening attentively. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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