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The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. Her voice was weak and flat. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. The second, comprising the bulk of the jail, and by many degrees worse in point of accommodation, having several dismal and noisome wards under ground, was common both to debtors and malefactors,—an association little favourable to the morals or comforts of the former, who, if they were brought there with any notions of honesty, seldom left with untainted principles. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. ’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown.
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