‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. "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. It is attested, you will observe, by the Reverend Mr. Brewis had told him the Valade family had been victim to wholesale murder, and a twinge of compassion had wrung even his deliberately hardened heart. "I cannot do it. We’ve done nothing to deserve it.
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