’ Tears glistened in her eyes. 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. “But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. Luck. Sometimes ships would stop three or four days for water and repairs; and the men would carouse in the back room at Morgan's. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about.
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