Her unnatural calm was giving way. No instrument I've ever used has done me such good service. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. If they had any idea the concerts he had seen, they would have known the quality of her playing. Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly-crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now happily unknown, the jail-fever. "And now," said Thames, (for we must still preserve the name,) "you will no longer defer my happiness.
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