Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. Mr. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too. I don’t idealize you. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be.
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