Jonathan mixed with the group, and, sure of his prey, abided his time. Saint Giles's Round-house. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move.
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