“There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment,” she told herself, “and that is how to pay my next week’s bill to Mrs. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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