He did not leave much of an 17 impression. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. ’ ‘Ah, non?’ Her voice was neutral. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. Brendon felt his arm seized. It was a fetching gown that stretched tightly in a cream colored swath over her breasts and expanded to a full skirt with a petticoat.
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