Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. “We’re in for it. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you.
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