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. "Oh! I see!" replied Blueskin, winking significantly, "Come nearer, or they'll observe us. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. But I can give it its name now. While the girl kept the patient from dwelling upon his misfortunes, whatever these were, he himself would have to keep the girl from brooding over hers.
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