It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. There was no one else in the doorway. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. ” She nodded.
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