‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. Of course there were goats. You come to England, and hide in a secret convent in London. Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged—along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. Only the next of kin. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet.
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