She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. Sheppard, fervently. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. Wood. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night.
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