Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. “Uh, can you get me a soda or something?” She said, shielding her exposed teeth with her hand.
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