"I've won, after all. . On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. "Don't touch me. ” She nodded. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. ” His lips tightened, and he frowned with solemn resolution. ” Ennison’s voice shook a little.
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