I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. She did her best to do this. He drew a little breath of relief. "It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. She was no longer a confederate in that. The weed was all right. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered.
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