” “Miss Ellicot! That old cat!” Sydney exclaimed indignantly. She chose to hold her nose. "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. “The smallest will do for me quite well. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks.
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