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Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. ‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. “I do not wish to make impertinent inquiries into your private life.
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