"To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. Once before—but that had been different. “Please forgive me, Lucy. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade. Caution forced her to speak calmly. “Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. It'll be turning over to-morrow. WARD, LOCK & CO.
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