I have a big breakfast. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. As no apprehension was entertained of an escape by this outlet,—nothing of the kind having been attempted by the boldest felon ever incarcerated in Newgate,—both doors were generally left open during the daytime. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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