I thought he was in Newgate. Just as he got on the roof of the prison, St. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. ‘You could have fetched me home. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection.
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