Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. But he was not a father one could make much of. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood. He was entranced as she walked towards him.
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