ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. Will you stand by and watch me?" The contents of the trunk only thickened the fog. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. I think that I am very fortunate to have it to sign. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all.
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