Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. "Jack Sheppard had a visitor, I understand, yesterday, and may make an attempt to escape. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory.
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