Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. . Never. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Yes, I can readily believe it.
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