‘And since the entire company and Pottiswick himself were unable to find hide nor hair of the infernal French female—’ ‘English, Hilary,’ Gerald reminded him. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. Enschede halted. Lord, I am sixty. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves.
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