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And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. "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. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. CHAPTER XXIV. ” She shook her head.
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