She turned and looked at the red LED of the alarm clock that read 3:55. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. Spurlock. My only love is for my poor lost son. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. I do swear. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me.
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