“We’ll have to watch a movie down here. " He bent his head to his knees. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. I hope I may never come near her. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard.
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