" Starting at a rapid pace in the direction of the Old Bailey, and crossing Fleet Bridge, "for oyster tubs renowned," the trio skirted the right bank of the muddy stream until they reached Fleet Lane, up which they hurried. ” She played with her hair. “But if you knew anything of that—” “I did. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks.
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