It was Annabel who spoke. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. ‘Now then, missie. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. The likeness was ridiculous.
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