"Damnation!" cried Kneebone. His breakfast despatched, which he ate with a wolfish appetite, he walked over to Newgate, chuckling as he went at the consternation which his appearance would create amongst the turnkeys. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. She shut the door behind her. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties.
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