Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. “This stirs one. ’ He looked the girl up and down. I should like to have had you forgive me. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. I want to enrich it with hangings and gladden it with verses.
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