She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like,’ he repeated blankly. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. And while her son was reconveyed to prison the body of the unfortunate Mrs. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation.
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