Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. I thought he was in Newgate. . Practically all. Gosse was backing towards the table.
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