"It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. 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. “Number 13, please, cabman. ’ ‘I have no game. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. . ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. Only that I was prevented by one of those soldiers that caught me in the big house.
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