She snatched about in her mind. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark.
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