“Call it warning, if you like. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. ” The brutality of his first astonishment was evaporating.
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