The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying. Night and day have been alike to me. ‘You have no need to be afraid of us. That’s got his nerves to rags.
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