“You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. She forced herself not to think of John. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below.
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