Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. Then came the great day. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. He was vaguely uneasy; he knew not what about. The woman I wanted was another man's wife. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone.
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