Let us be gone. I received a telegram, as you know, during dinner. 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. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. "Why were you afraid to show me this picture, Winny?" asked the youth.
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