Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. "My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror. 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 folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate.
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