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Literature

Peg Leg Louisa 523

Peg Leg Louisa 523 Falmouth. The Moor. Tuesday the Sixteenth of November. Morning. Nine of the Clock. The three coaches crunched across the cobbles of a large square in what she reasoned was the town’s centre. Rochelle thought, now I wonder what – and whom – we will see today? The trip down from London had been arduous, especially since Plymouth but she’d travelled at least as far in France, the Low Countries and the Holy Roman Empire. She thought, I must be getting old! She smiled to herself. She wasn’t quite thirty five. The Coachman applied the brakes and soon there was a laughing flurry of women – along with the two lads – getting down, but she heard the exhaustion mingled with the jocularity. She got down, helping Lizzy. A voice – familiar and joyful – called, “Ahoy there ladies!” She looked about to see George and Alex hurrying over to the coaches, both men waving. Lizzy gave a shriek of delight and, best as she could, she ran towards Alex and flung herself into his arms. He