ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. \"I'm going to his baseball game, he's pitching for Lincoln, and then I believe he is taking me to dinner. .
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