" And, having partaken of a hasty breakfast, he set out. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. "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. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. CHAPTER I.
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