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. “What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. ” A little sobbing cry from Annabel arrested Sir John’s attention. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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