Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. "If the Captain is taken to Tyburn, be near the place of execution—at the end of the Edgeware Road.
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