He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. “Molly and you settled about the rooms. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips.
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