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About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. ‘Now let’s have it. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. ’ While he trod a deliberate path through the pink saloon towards the door, Gerald encouraged a flow of harmless chatter about the people Madame had met and the parties she had attended. "That gown is getting shabby.
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