‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. Though by no means so extensive or commodious as the modern prison, Old Newgate was a large and strongly-built pile. “I have not quarrelled with her. I shall know what to say to him when he comes. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. Husband of mine, I think we have rather overrated the emotional capacity of those—those dears. See paragraph 1.
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