She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. This was no light conquest; nor was it a government easily maintained. I came back to say, that I've placed your nephew in a coach; and, if you'll be at my lock in the Old Bailey an hour after midnight, you shall hear the last tidings of him. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been.
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