She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. Jack fell on his knees beside her. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. "Wasn't he in some way connected with the Jacobite plots?" "He was," replied Thames. "Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily.
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