ToC After running to some distance down Seacoal Lane, Jack stopped to give a last look at the vehicle which was bearing away the remains of his beloved and illfated mother. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp.
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