“Yes,” said Ann Veronica, trying to think where they were, trying to get things plain again that had seemed plain enough in the quiet of the night. A spacious suite of rooms down the hall John described as “my parents love den” with a grimace as Lucy smiled. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak.
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