It was the grand nursery of vice. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies.
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