She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. It's sixteen days down, with The Tigress. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. In the first place there were not so many suitable advertisements as she had expected. They shouted to her from the wings to come off. ‘Jacques?’ she called.
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