“Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. “I love you. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. “Yes, John. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. " "Would you have had him spare my mother's murderer?" cried Winifred.
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