FOOTNOTES: [A] At the hospital of Saint Giles for Lazars, the prisoners conveyed from the City of London towards Tyburn, there to be executed for treasons, felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof to drink, as their last refreshing in this life. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. “Forgive me,” he said. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. " "What means this idle boasting, villain?" said Thames. Anyway, I only smoke occasionally. She turned off the light and approached the window. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension.
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