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Nothing material occurred to Newgate, until the memorable year 1666, when it was utterly destroyed by the Great Fire. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him.
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