‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. The massive door was unlocked, and they entered the cell. "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. There was plenty of sweet water. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that.
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