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. He heard the woman talking again. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin. . They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. They are not your flowers. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence.
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