” He glared at Martin. His hands reached under her skirt. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions.
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