" "I can't. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. I shall count it a privilege. ’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street.
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