“John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. He shook his head. Wild in his own domain. ’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. Which is why I wasn’t able to see him until today. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her.
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