ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. “Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her. ‘Odd sort of a nun. The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. "Because they're in the next room, and the door's shut; that's vy, my jack-adandy!" replied Abraham, unsuspiciously. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights.
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