"Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. "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.
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