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Kneebone, Van Galgebrok, and Baptist Kettleby—all of whom greeted him cordially. “Excuse me?” Mike threw Michelle a strange look, bursting into a grin. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. Better even than these. Taking the wind was her business in life.
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