I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. Rowland felt himself sinking beneath the powerful grasp of his enemy. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it.
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