ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. You’re a lady. ‘That will be very helpful to me. Well, it's scarcely credible. But I trusted to that ring of yours. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen.
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