FOOTNOTES: [A] At the hospital of Saint Giles for Lazars, the prisoners conveyed from the City of London towards Tyburn, there to be executed for treasons, felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof to drink, as their last refreshing in this life. But I tell you in return, I shall take no pains to hide myself. I’ll give you grandpére!’ ‘But milor’—’ ‘Pardon!’ No longer master of his actions, the general lurched forward, waving his cane. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. ” “Hampstead didn’t suit Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison remarked. .
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