. . Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “He wants to settle something on you, I believe. Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Her voice recalled him. "To Newgate," cried Jonathan, putting his head out of the window.
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