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“I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. —'How so?' says I. 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. "You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life.
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