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. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. He took Diane out. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. "The men. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. And sometimes he overflowed with a peculiarly malignant wit that played, with devastating effect, upon any topics that had the courage to face it.
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