Part 2 They received the guests in their pretty little hall with genuine effusion. "You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. He was a fool. ” “It isn’t nice going to prison. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. “Yeah, but I have two brothers. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. This won’t do. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand.
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