" "Mr. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. "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. He would have to go on; he would be forced to enact all the obligations he had imposed upon himself. .
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