You don’t understand the fix I am in. I'm burning up. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead.
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