Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. But he. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. Wild here presently, and I wouldn't for the world—Zounds!" he exclaimed, as the figure of the thief-taker appeared at the wicket, "here he is. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then.
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