At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. Dismissing the post-chaise at the Old Bailey, he walked to Newgate to ascertain what had occurred since the escape. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Gerald shook his head. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution.
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