“But your hair,” he gasped. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. Don’t leave me. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. Her name was Rhea.
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