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"My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. He laughed once or twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not.
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