To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. There was more shouting. 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. C. Everything was going to hell.
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