He thrust out a rhetorical hand. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. ‘Caught her sneaking after that Valade fellow. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. ToC Tyburn was now at hand. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. I will not talk to you about Miss Pellissier or her affairs. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared.
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