‘Come on, Hilary. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. "He can't escape. He would have to make sure of her silence. " "Ay, here I am," said Jack, throwing off his hat and wig, and marching towards the group, amongst whom there was a general movement of surprise at his audacity. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. Something changed for her. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again.
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