" "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. " "Faithful fellow!" murmured Jack. " The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her.
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