“Eight, Cavendish Square. ” Anna’s demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged by the slightest flush of colour. Here Jack Sheppard was unable to repress an exclamation of astonishment. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant. She was radiant. I stubbornly insisted that we wait, and you woke up. “For instance?” She smiled. Waving a white flag, naturally.
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