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She forced herself not to think of John. It wailed at Lucy, chubby arms reaching towards her, pleading. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. White told me where to find you. This gate, called Newgate, "as being latelier builded than the rest," continued, for upwards of three hundred years, to be used as a place of imprisonment for felons and trespassers; at the end of which time, having grown old, ruinous, and "horribly loathsome," it was rebuilt and enlarged by the executors of the renowned Sir Richard Whittington, the Lord Mayor of London: whence it afterwards obtained amongst a certain class of students, whose examinations were conducted with some strictness at the Old Bailey, and their highest degrees taken at Hyde-park-corner, the appellation of Whittington's College, or, more briefly, the Whit. It is just how things happen to be. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper.
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