She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. "You'll find a waterman asleep under his tilt in one of them ere craft, if you look about, Sir," replied Ben, backing water as he spoke. No mercenary consideration influences me. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. .
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