Though by no means so extensive or commodious as the modern prison, Old Newgate was a large and strongly-built pile. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. And a right set-to there were betwixt him and Mr Jarvis, I can tell you.
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