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Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. " "You don't have to. "And, now,—to Newgate. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room.
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