She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested.
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