If Jack Sheppard or his mother ever enter this house again, I leave it—that's all. But from the rest—you saved me. Mr. “Don’t be a hypocrite. I’m sorry I ruined dinner. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch. It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’.
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