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She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. Soon, they fattened up, their cheeks rosy and their hair shining. We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you. Towards this box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel. Tell him the truth, Annabel. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said.
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