He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ’ She stopped, her lips tightening. A man’s children nowadays are not his own. His first inquiries were concerning the child, and he was delighted to find that it still lived and was doing well. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. " The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story.
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