I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it. "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. In that case I'll help you. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. Peste, she had forgot the sword. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat.
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