“Surely Lady Ennison would object, even if it were possible. It may not be just, it may not be fair, but things are so. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. And the rumors! You two are fiends, ghouls, murdering wolves!” “You don’t care about Fritz and Anna! You only care for yourself!” Lucy screamed, her words falling on deaf ears.
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