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. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. Kneebone on her way to the door, "how could you bring such creatures with you, especially on an occasion like this, when we haven't met for a fortnight!" "Couldn't help it, my life," returned the gentleman addressed, in the same tone; "but you little know who those individuals are. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. Too close, he reasoned, for safety.
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