She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be.
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