She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. They were the only real marriages she had seen clearly. Within that dungeon lay Captain Bew, Rumbold and Whitney—a jolly crew! All carved their names on the stone, and all Share the fate of the brave Du Val! With their chisels so fine, tra la! "Save us!" continued the apprentice, "I hope this beam doesn't resemble the Newgate stone; or I may chance, like the great men the song speaks of, to swing on the Tyburn tree for my pains.
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