Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. "Tell me the truth, I implore you," cried Thames. However, to cut a long matter short, my proposal's this: —I've taken a fancy to your bantling, and, as I've no son of my own, if it meets with your concurrence and that of Mrs. At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. " "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little.
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