Hopefully. ’ ‘It will be worth the pain, you will see. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. But this was a vicomte’s sister. But I was portentous, I can assure you. She floundered deep. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street.
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