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My reception at West Kensington you know of. The blood will rest on your head. He grew even harder. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. ’ Chapter Five ‘Now then, young Jack,’ Gerald said, turning to the lad, who was sitting in the place lately vacated by his self-appointed mistress, but in a state of far less relaxation. He would know her address to-morrow. “You silly fool,” he said.
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