-That is your ultimatum, Glamorgan? My boy for your girl or you scoop up my possessions and transfuse them into yours?- Peter Courtlandt tapped the arm of his chair nervously as he regarded the man who sat opposite in front of the fire. The two men were in striking contrast. Courtlandt seemed a component part of the room in which they sat, a room which with its dull, velvety mahogany, its costly Eastern rugs, its rare old portraits and book-lined walls, proclaimed generations of ancestors who had been born to purple and fine linen. He was spare and tall. His features might have served as the model for the portrait of Nelson in the Metropolitan Museum.
Lovely, red-haired Nancy Barton put glamour behind her to serve her country. From the lap of New England luxury, she plunged into the danger and intrigue of Washington at war. Suddenly she found herself swept into an alliance with Major Bill Jerrold, the iron-jawed Marine straight from the hells of the South Pacific. Together, Nan and Bill race against time to unmask a traitor and put out the flames of war.
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