“It’s either now or never,” said Ann Veronica, again ascending this stile. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. She could not hide her face. “You told me that your name was Meysey Hill.
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