"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. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. Jack looked towards the door.
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