He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. She turned off the light and approached the window.
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