He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. The ward in which he was confined, was about six yards in length, and three in width, and in height, might be about twelve feet. As we turned the corner of the street, I noticed that the electric light was burning in this room. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. I find you an impenetrable enigma. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies.
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