The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. He was a philosopher. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. " Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack, Jack, you'll come to be hanged!" "Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious grin. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands.
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