Sheppard, who had been stricken down by the blow that prostrated her assailant, looked up, she perceived Jonathan Wild kneeling beside the body of Blueskin. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. And the less “anything” happened the better. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson.
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