"Get it over quickly," said Trenchard, in a whisper to the thief-taker. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. More than half the city perished. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. If Thames Darrell escapes, you will lose both life and property.
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