He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street. Everything was going to hell. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. She was my first love.
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