ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. Once before—but that had been different. ‘Oh, I do love a flatterer. I was compelled to run away. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. ’ A thought caught in her mind and she turned quickly to her old nurse. ‘You would have a history of my life? Very well. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs.
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