"From Mr. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. " "Do you happen to know Jonathan Wild, master?" inquired Jack, altering his tone, and assuming a more respectful demeanour. ‘Eh bien?’ She thrust again, from the same place. ’ Melusine watched with a tightness in her chest as Captain Roding kept hold of Lucy’s hand, even as he turned back to Prudence. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be.
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