This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. “Eight, Cavendish Square. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you.
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