It had been a trying day. The Chapel was situated in the south-east angle of the jail; the ordinary at the time of this history being the Reverend Thomas Purney; the deputy chaplain, Mr. Hers were less noble, yet stately. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. Visiting? Dressed for it, certainly. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn.
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