He did not move. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. It would not have been for her an anomaly to read a love story in which there were no kisses. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary.
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