‘We was of an age, you see, miss. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. There was barely room for one, let alone two, in the passage, and Melusine ended up backwards, supporting Jack as best she could as he stumbled along, grasping the rough walls on either side with both hands. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that.
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