" It was only a shade better than the Stone Hold. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me.
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