‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. ' 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. ‘It must have been so, Melusine, or I wouldn’t have kissed you. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him.
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