How Jack Sheppard got rid of his Irons. Arrived beneath an aperture in the broken roof, he was preparing to pass through it, when he observed a little heap of tiles upon the floor, which appeared to have been recently dislodged. “With your permission,” he said to Anna, “I shall arrange a bed for him where he is. But I do not need that Gérard attend. Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. Perhaps for the first time he realized that Anna was by no means an ordinary person. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel.
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