‘Anyhow, never mind that now. Shotbolt, the head turnkey of Clerkenwell Prison, and Mr. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. That’s as far as we go. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. At length the manager arrived; and together he and Ruth succeeded in getting some of the aromatic spirits of ammonia down the patient's throat. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church.
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