The night before they made McClintock's Ruth and Spurlock leaned over the rail, their shoulders touching. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. At least I can’t talk to them. " "I don't desire it, Sir," replied Mrs.
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