Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. ' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” “I’ve got money,” said Ann Veronica. She said as much to him. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place.
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