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. “Uh, can you get me a soda or something?” She said, shielding her exposed teeth with her hand. Diable. I have an engagement with a theatrical agent—I believe for the ‘Unusual’.
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