As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. “I’ve got bad faults. I can get into my clothes. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. ” He paused for a moment, and then suddenly continued. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. "But, however, it may turn out, I disown you. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses.
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