’ ‘Ah yes. Wild, Captain?" remonstrated the other, in a deferential tone. Sheppard staggered forward. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. ‘Pitiful. Annabel, I was lying. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna.
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