“I know nothing about your wife. ’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. But, whether she likes it or not, I aim to be on hand to get her out of it. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. "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. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. We Spurlocks take our medicine, standing. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. If it is that you need these things, then of course we will go there. She has even found them accommodation in the house where she is putting up herself.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExNi4xOS4xNDUgLSAyMi0wNy0yMDI0IDA1OjMwOjQzIC0gMjAzMjM3ODEzOQ==
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