Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. Don’t ask me how. She will not confide in me. Irreton. 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. ” The man smiled at him. “Lucy, that’s horrible. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child.
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