“Is this hansom for me?” she said. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. "Thames would let himself in; and Jack generally finds an entrance through the backdoor or the shop-window, when he has been out at untimely hours. With this person—who was no other than Mr. " "All right; and thank you.
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