Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. How Jack Sheppard was again captured. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. Cathy's eyes widened, her cheeks expanding to a smile.
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