Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. I'm entirely at your service. Jeremiah Jackson, and Mr.
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