‘Come, cry a truce. And, what's more, I tell you, if Captain Sheppard is hanged, you need never hope to call me Mrs. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. ‘And me—’ ‘You, mademoiselle, are more trouble than you’re worth, and I’ll thank you to —’ ‘Hilary, don’t,’ said Lucy, and Melusine’s rising temper cooled a little. Oh God! pardon me. “Where should we go?” Knowing that they would be dogged wherever they went, she volunteered, “Let’s go to the Big Apple. But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off.
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