Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. Wood fared still worse. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. “I’ve heard some even more entertaining news from the Orchestra grapevine too. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. He drifted in and out of consciousness.
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