A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. “It is no good playing a game. They will find me dead, yes. I'll send for Wu Fang. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. I believe—I believe that I must risk it.
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