207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis. "What would my poor mother say to it?" "I was sorry to see that about your mother, Jack," observed Hogarth. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded.
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