All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. "And, now,—to Newgate. ‘Jacques?’ she called. "His shin may need rubbing. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. Two-and-twenty! I can’t imagine what your parents can be thinking about to let you get into these scrapes.
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