Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. “Morning, Mom. ‘Prudence? This name I have heard it spoken. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls.
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