“But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street.
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