You see, I’m selfish. You have never felt the hearts of all hardened against you; have never heard the jeer or curse from every lip; nor endured the insult and the blow from every hand. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. ’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. She went to market every day to fetch the daily bread and more herbs for more medicines and potions, plus treats for the apprentices made of honey and almond paste. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham.
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