The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. "The guv'ner'll be here afore midnight. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. “Can you spare me a moment?” he asked.
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