I'll dig it up. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. “I wish he had,” she said. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers.
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