The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. A young man was playing the banjo. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. Something in his tone pinched her heart. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. She looked at him mournfully. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. But his lips were honourlocked. Were any thing to happen to him, Newgate wouldn't be what it is, nor Tyburn either. ’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her.
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