She felt like a dried-up old woman. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. ” She commanded. He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too late. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other.
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