But it was hopelessly hard to put. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. You'll find her at Black Mary's Hole. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. The cage has a strong door, with an iron grating at the top, and further secured by a stout bolt and padlock. Just let him down easy, Lucy. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. CHAPTER XXIII.
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