You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones.
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