“John, we should be getting out of here. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. “Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised. She got pregnant. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy.
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