They are our food, Lucia, nothing more. You understand me, Charcoal. I consented. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow.
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