A long and secret conference then took place between the thief-taker and his myrmidons, after which they were severally dismissed. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table.
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