‘I can’t do that. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. She felt very awkward as she stared at 103 the top of his ashen hair. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild.
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