She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. Mr. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder.
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