“Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. "I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. I must stay a minute longer, if only to see you smile. ‘I do not believe you. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. "If you loiter in this way, old Wood will catch us.
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