“Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. She dressed quickly, pulling on white jeans and a red tee shirt. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly.
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