Chapter XIII “HE WILL NOT FORGET!” The external changes in Brendon following on his alteration of fortune were sufficiently noticeable. "We shall never be able to get you out unseen, Jack," whispered Poll Maggot. ‘Yes, miss. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. "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. I’m okay. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world.
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