![]() ![]() If she remained here much longer, there was no doubt she would be raped or robbed, even beaten and left for dead. People glanced furtively at the woman, but they passed her without breaking pace. ![]() It was possible she was waiting for an errant husband, or perhaps she was a shopgirl who had lost her way. ![]() The lock of hair that strayed from beneath her hood was an indistinct brown. Her gray cloak parted in the front to reveal a high-necked gown made of dark cloth. But if she was a whore, she was dressed strangely for it. No decent female would be found here, especially after dusk. The area was crawling with beggars, prostitutes, swindlers, thieves. James, the buildings were a crumbling mass of filth. Here, a short but significant distance from the splendor of St. Such a sight wasn’t unusual in the streets of London, especially in the rookery, where human suffering was visible in all its variety. Derek Craven’s hard green eyes flickered over her as he came from the back-alley gaming hell. She leaned against the wall of a crumbling lodging house, her shoulders hunched as if she were ill. The lone figure of a woman stood in the shadows. ![]()
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