Kimble had bedded the animal down at the local inn. She didn’t choose her man. “I do hope you will see how things are, and not be offended with me or frightfully shocked and distressed by what I have done. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. Nasty, damp passages.
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