Jack Kimble. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. On this second excursion, forewarned, she would use no light and keep as quiet as a mouse, she vowed, and thus refrain from attracting the attention of the militia at the gates. There was a flash and a loud report.
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