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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. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. “Shit happens, John. " As familiar as Quilt Arnold himself with every part of Wild's mysterious abode, as well as with the ways of its inmates, Jack, without a moment's hesitation, took up a lamp which was burning in the hall, and led his companion up the great stone stairs. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. He saw the tragedy on the boy's face; but he was merciless. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts.
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