‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. "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. Or mad, just as the captain had said so many times. "Mr. But a woman’s life is all chance. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly.
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