After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. I should like to have had you forgive me. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. “YOU had to come in. ‘You do not try. ’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle.
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