He guided himself between her legs. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. So Monday, when I see one of the maids come out with a basket, for to go fetch summat for that other Frenchie—the female as I told you about, miss, as is forever coming and going with the nobs. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient.
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