As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. ‘Now then, missie. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes.
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