He tried again. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. ‘Your niece, ma’am. Were any thing to happen to him, Newgate wouldn't be what it is, nor Tyburn either. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify.
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