Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. ‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled. John, I have something to say to you. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. He noted the strong white teeth as they snipped the thread. Then she called a hansom and drove home. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London.
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