She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. "I would have done more, if necessary. “And if she can’t have the right one? “We’ve developed such a quality of preference!” She rubbed her knuckles into her forehead. "And, does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruffianly housebreaker?" cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilderment.
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