She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. But—he was cleverer than any of you. Kind of knows it, too. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal.
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