His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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