—'We'll do it,' said they, filling their glasses, and looking as fierce as King George's grenadier guards; 'here's your health, Mint. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. The thing rankled in her mind night and day.
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