Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. " Spurlock grew limp in his chair. “It’s okay Lucy. White. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild.
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