"I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. He continued tenderly, almost affectionately. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. Andrew's Church, his pursuers had gained the bridge, and the attention of such passengers as crowded the streets was attracted towards him by their vociferations. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.
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