My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. The Goopes were the oddest little couple conceivable, following a fruitarian career upon an upper floor in Theobald’s Road. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command.
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