I never sleep in the company of a w***e. It is folly to do so, for it is their trade and their inclination to see themselves better compensated than any man might feel was warranted. But I slept that night and that was my first error.
Or perhaps it was the second, after the taking of this alluring w***e to my bed.
Either way, the bells were pealing from York’s cathedral, summoning the faithful to prayer, when I awakened in a far finer mood than should have been possible in such a locale. It was raining and the shutters hung open, the better to admit fully the damp onslaught of morning. I smiled all the same as I stretched a hand across the mended linens.
I found nothing.
Or rather, no one. The cause of my fine mood had fled. I frowned, disappointed, though it is usually easier to avoid
