Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. I’m glad 237 you came over. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t. ‘But I have told you. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time.
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