’ Jack gasped. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. But also this must not go on. Thus died Jack Sheppard. Nor can we. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. It’s no half reform either. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively.
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