It is the vapouring school girl. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. ” She stood up and held her arms toward him. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. ’ ‘Perfectly correct, my boy.
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