CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. Stanley, with an imperious gesture, “to come in here. "How long shall I be here?" he asked. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. That is I saw her.
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