" He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. “It is unimportant,” she said. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye—even that of Jonathan Wild who had come thither to deride him,—was fixed upon him. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. "But I shall watch night and day about Newgate, in the hope of getting him out.
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