Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone. At this moment, a coach passed them, and was instantly hailed by Thames. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. Old London Bridge.
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