Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. "Come, off with it, sirrah, or I'll blow out your brains, in the first place, and strip you afterwards. You may well say it's impossible! His Majesty's jail of Newgate is admirably guarded, I must say. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation.
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