" "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. ” Ann Veronica walked as he indicated. But no; she must step warily. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. “Anna!” she repeated. A small voice greeted her, hissing. Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool reception, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. ’ Fury was in her face. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far.
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