Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. She could not help herself. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. ” “Give me something to do,” said Ann Veronica, interrupting her persuasions at last. "But if you turn to the right when you reach the ground, and keep close to the Mint wall, you'll speedily arrive at White Cross Street; White Cross Street, if you turn again to the right, will bring you into Queen Street; Queen Street, bearing to the left, will conduct you to Deadman's Place; and Deadman's Place to the water-side, not fifty yards from Saint Saviour's stairs, where you're sure to get a boat. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable.
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