"Much that I would willingly forget. . Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. ’ Gerald eyed her with interest. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology. "I yield to fate.
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