The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. "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. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. ‘So are you.
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