Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. ’ ‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly.
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