The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow.
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