“If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. I suppose I ought to have been a man. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. I’m okay.
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