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The man was dangerous. She drew a breath, and sighed it out. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. But she had found it very difficult. He glanced up at the coachman. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. "Thames, this is no forgery. You will stop at once.
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