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“Mirabelle? Mirabelle Bevan? Well, I’ll be blowed!��
Mirabelle started, almost spilling her drink. It took her a moment to realize who the handsome man was, now his hair was greying at the edges and he was out of uniform. Puffing laconically on a cigarette, martini in hand, he wore a lounge suit and an understated silk tie with a discreet regimental insignia woven into the fabric.
“Eddie,�� she smiled. “What are you doing here?”
― Sara Sheridan