’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. All I had to do was to piece them together. I wonder. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk.
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