‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. You are afraid of kisses.
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