Almost light-heartedly. He kissed her fingers and grinned. That would be an unkind twist of fate. Prudence Remenham. Why not? Quite willing. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead.
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