The evil in his eyes towards her was explosive. "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. I asked him to take me away, and hide me. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once.
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