The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. It was obvious that he had waited for her. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky.
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