"That's an incorrigible rascal," he added, as Sheppard closed the door; "it's only to-day that I discovered—" "What?" asked Jackson, pricking up his ears. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. "To the best of my belief, Thames Darrell has been murdered by you. " "Jack," replied Thames, greatly moved, "I wish I could devise any means of brightening your own dark prospects. “I want to know who you are. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer.
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