His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. "Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands. I knew him in spite of his dress. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this.
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