ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it. ” It came upon him like a flash. ” Their eyes met for a moment. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. And then they disgorged.
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