Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. 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. Aren’t I asking—asking plainly now?. "Not before it's needed," returned Jack, aloud; adding in a whisper, "get upon my shoulders, Thames. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment.
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