“Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. I don’t think you understand. 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. “We can be alone?” She inquired. There was so much to see, so much to do, that he became what he had once been normally, a lovable boy. I might have known it. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed.
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