‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis.
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