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. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. ” Miss Stanley turned to her. Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes. ‘I have no idea. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. “Yeah. " "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. ” “Where?” He asked. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said.
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