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‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. He turned, and beheld Winifred. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. .
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