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“Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. ’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock.
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