ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. But here’s what is different this time. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it. I tell you, that girl would jump into the sea, rather. Well, whenever you say, I promise to do away with the mystery. Hope you ate light before you got here. Pardon! I wish to say, for your granddaughter, we seek succour.
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