It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. Three little letters can’t make a bit of difference. “Please don’t,” she said. "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. Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burthens. I told him I would bring him to the gallows, and I was as good as my word. I have been stupid and foolish.
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