You must be misinformed, Mr. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. She admired his backside as he fetched a blue towel from his bathroom. "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. You do not make me afraid like this.
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