"My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. "You read it, Ruth. "I will," answered the prisoner. He's as nice and civil-spoken a gentleman as need be; by the same token," she added, in an under tone, "that he gave me a span new crown piece. 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.
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