“You would believe that life is kindled by the passions alone. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. He slackened his pace as he reached the flat. 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,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. She was rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced.
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