Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.
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