Annabel laughed a little uneasily. "That's not an easy question to answer," rejoined Blueskin. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Meanwhile, the object of all this fearful disturbance had made his escape to Newgate, from the roof of which he witnessed the destruction of his premises.
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