Wood. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. The crowd now dispersed amongst the fields, and thousands of persons were seen hurrying towards Tyburn as fast as their legs could carry them, leaping over hedges, and breaking down every impediment in their course. The latch came with a weak click. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. She leaned back in her chair. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously.
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