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‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. ’ ‘Only in hot blood, eh?’ grinned Gerald. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. uk Take a look at some of my Georgian romances here: https://animoto.
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