October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery.
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