"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. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. No more scuffling. Seeming to feel that this statement called for explanation, he added, ‘I been working for the sisters six month, see. "What are you doing with him?" "It's a long story, Captain, and I've no breath to tell it,—unless you choose to release me," rejoined Quilt.
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