‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. ‘When we met probably, and you threatened me at the first. Heigho!" "Now for it!" cried Jack, as the couple entered the room: "the coast's clear.
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