’ ‘No. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ‘What started you off, you madman,’ Roding told him frankly, as he set about tying his handkerchief around the wound, ‘was being born at all. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. “How well and jolly you must be feeling. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. . "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn.
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