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Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. Were any thing to happen to him, Newgate wouldn't be what it is, nor Tyburn either. ’ She drew a heavy breath. ” For a fraction of a second the two young men hesitated.

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