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. ” “You mean you’re going to run away with me?” He asked in semi-seriousness. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. “I’ve been,” she said, “forbidden to come.
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