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“I promise, Lucy. . “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s. “If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. This horrible piece of deformity, who acted as drawer and cellarman, and was a constant butt to the small wits of the jail, was nicknamed the Black Dog of Newgate. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. “Put her in the trunk. Her disapproval was obvious enough. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go.
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