I was grateful. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated.
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