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Then a hansom drove up, and his heart gave a great leap. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. “I confess it. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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