Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. "It's not very likely that a babby of nine months old will save my life, if I'm to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. Capital swordsman. But it means no end of a row.
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