" "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. “Thought so. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. But they will also find you. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully.
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