"I was at Tyburn. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London. Compared with her father and Mr. He had him removed from the Condemned Hold, stripped of his fine apparel, clothed in the most sordid rags, loaded with additional fetters, and thrust into the Stone Hold,—already described as the most noisome cell in the whole prison. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. ” She took his hand, interrupting him. He was no match for Brendon.
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