Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time.
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