"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. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. He leaned forward to embrace her. Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought. I’m glad you’re back for all sorts of reasons. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. "It'll ease your mind.
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