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My Lady Kirke was all agog.
Pierre Radisson was her "dear sweet savage," and "naughty spark," and "bold, bad beau," and "devilish fellow," and "lovely wretch!"
"La, Pierre," she cries, with a tap of her fan, "anybody can go to the king's levee! But, dear heart!" she trills, with a sidelong ogle. "Ta!-ta! naughty devil!-to think of our sweet s