Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. Bah. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. He’s a catch, Lucy. "No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. She looked around her. His father spoke for him. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. ‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand.
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