She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt. Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. ’ But she reckoned without the fellow Trodger. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. 196 Succeeded where she had not. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him.
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