"To Newgate," cried Jonathan, putting his head out of the window. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. After all, you failed in obtaining the secret from her, Sir Rowland. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard.
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