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The boy’s besotted. Sheppard staggered forward. “No, I am alone,” she answered. And mind you don't arouse his suspicions. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. Over here, there was generally some unusual twist to a case. Annabel thought, and thought again. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly.
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