” “And he accepted meekly?” “Practically. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. He would have to make sure of her silence. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. “Come,” she said. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. "Hush!—come hither, and I'll tell you. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. uk Take a look at some of my Georgian romances here: https://animoto.
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