‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. I had to go at a moment’s notice. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. ‘It were that there major, miss. It is no problem. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her.
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