"From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. Or perhaps my father once. "However, I will be there. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. Her gratitude swelled within her.
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