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Having now fairly got out of Newgate for the second time, with a heart throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape. She was nearly dead. Spurling, "I hope he may never see Tyburn. Jackson?" said Wood, significantly. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them.
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