She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. ‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame.
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