Jack fell on his knees beside her. She gloried in it: he needed her. Stanley. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. "That's the kinchin as was to try the dub for us, ain't it?" muttered Smith to his companion as he stole a glance at Jack Sheppard.
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