The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. ‘On the contrary,’ Gerald argued, frowning. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully.
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