It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. "Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. "But I like Bobby Burns best. .
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