’ ‘Even if they militiamen weren’t there, miss,’ cautioned her cavalier, ‘you couldn’t go marching into the house open like. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul.
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