” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. "You are all right?"—anxiously.
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