" The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. Rage flooded her at his intent, but she controlled it. Claude du Val himself couldn't have carved it better—ha! ha!" The name inscribed upon the beam (of which, as it has been carefully preserved by the subsequent owners of Mr. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is.
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