Her faculties seemed for a moment numbed. 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. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him.
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