His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. ToC Jonathan Wild, meanwhile, had quitted the house. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. YOU did. O'Higgins and I landed at Copeley's yesterday; and Mr. .
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