The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. They give themselves airs, but so it is. Adjoining it was the Lower Ward,—"Though, in what degree of latitude it was situated," observes Ned Ward, "I cannot positively demonstrate, unless it lay ninety degrees beyond the North Pole; for, instead of being dark there but half a year, it is dark all the year round. At no loss to comprehend that Jack was the individual pointed out by these outcries, two of the nearest of the group made a dash at him. "You repeated the word 'Fool' over and over. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. She hated the manor.
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