Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. ‘She won’t like it,’ prophesied the captain gloomily. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes.
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