He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. ’ ‘How did you come by it? You didn’t steal it, did you?’ ‘Certainly I did not steal it,’ said Melusine indignantly. ' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her.
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