It’s no good flying out at that, Vee; I didn’t arrange it. Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. And he unsheathed his sword. 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. The floor was planked with oak, and covered with iron staples, hooks, and ringbolts, with heavy chains attached to them.
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