” Annabel laughed softly. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her.
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