ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. Well, kill me. But Darrell averted his head. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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