[Madame Flirt by Charles E. Pearce]@TWC D-Link book
Madame Flirt

CHAPTER VIII
12/16

"So it _was_ that little squalling cat.

I hate her.

She's tumbled on her feet--like all cats.

But for the letters I'd say she'd flung herself at the head of _my_ man." Sally was thinking of her encounter with Lavinia outside the Maiden Head tavern.

Lancelot Vane was then sitting in the bow window of the coffee-room.


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