A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. β She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him. β βIt was exceedingly wrong of you,β Anna declared. Spurlock halted in his tracks. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Come. Inquiring for Mrs. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint.
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