Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. 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. No offence, I hope. Blood, they say, won't come out.
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