What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me.
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