The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. This happened after he ate. The situation bothered him considerably. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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