‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. Nice, of course. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. Her sister had told him that it was true. His fingers closed upon her hand.
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