ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. ’ Gerald raised his brows. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. Keep your eye upon the lad. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. “Compromise and kindness.
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