ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. But after that it was easy. She told us that it was a disguise. Full as she was of him, it felt good to shower her kill out of her hair. She felt she had to go on. So the young fool had not told her! McClintock had suspected as much. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly.
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