‘Now let’s have it. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. “You must pack for me. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you. For you know that I have made up my mind to dig a little way into life single-handed.
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