" At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. "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. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. ’ Jack blinked. She wanted to know.
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