8. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. "Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. "I was at Tyburn. There are way-stations—even terminals. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh.
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