Listen. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other. “Very well,” said her father. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Above this revolting spot was the female debtor's ward; below it a gloomy cell, called Tangier; and, lower still, the Stone Hold, a most terrible and noisome dungeon, situated underground, and unvisited by a single ray of daylight. It may be well, therefore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. —I do not congratulate you on your success.
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