She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance. But—Miss Pellissier!” “Well?” “Are you quite sure that you want us this evening? Wouldn’t you rather be alone? Just say the word, and we’ll clear out like a shot. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. "What has happened?" Ruth asked. A pretty piece.
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