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’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. He smothered a laugh. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. Well, I don’t think that’s fair. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide.
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