Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. ‘No one would credit that you are three years older than I. Set the boy free. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect.
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