Then Capes’ footsteps approached. He brought another small loaf, and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recommending Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. . There is no other way. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. ‘That I do not yet know. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise.
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