" "Where—where?" cried Thames. “I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. Saw the villain through the keyhole. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. He’s a footman who works for the nuns and has taken up the cudgels on her behalf. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support.
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