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She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. Miching Mallecho. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. He was bewildered. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately.
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