Saint Giles's Round-house XIII. “Very much as usual,” said Ramage. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me.
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