The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. “Please come home. You never can tell. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. The door closed softly upon her. On this second excursion, forewarned, she would use no light and keep as quiet as a mouse, she vowed, and thus refrain from attracting the attention of the militia at the gates.
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