ToC Monday, the 31st of August 1724,—a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate,—was distinguished by an unusual influx of visitors to the Lodge. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. And then she would find work. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing.
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