A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. It heralded you, promised you. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. It's gin—a liquor you used to like.
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