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But to England we will go. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. ” He crossed himself and grinned. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. "As yet," pursued the stranger, "Sir Montacute had placed no limit to his son's expenditure. Besides, Gerald would not for the world have passed up the chance of a little excitement. “You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations. " "I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town —Jack Sheppard—was in custody.
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