" At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. " "I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me. It had been a big event for teens across town. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs.
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