Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. ” She stopped.
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