“I don’t have time for this. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. Figg?" asked Gay. ‘Sapristi. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey.
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