" "Then I wish you good night. However, not a moment is to be lost. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing.
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