She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. Ever smelled Eternity for Men? I think I smelled it on Josh once.
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