Lucy saw that perhaps she had been attracted to Martin all along. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. . And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us. There is the key.
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