"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. “Why should I bear the burden of your wickedness? Who knows what might come of it? I shall permit nothing of the sort. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. ” He started back as though he had been shot.
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