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Wild never was the associate of thieves. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. "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. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. If Thames is murdered, you are his assassin. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies.
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