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Still, the respite was sufficient for Spurlock to look about for some weapon. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. It was after all a momentary affair. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding.
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