" "Bull's eye!" piped O'Higgins. His hot juices coursed into her in quick bursts. He looked at his friend. " At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood for ever. Vorsack would just have to live with it. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. "It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard.
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