"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. I kicked the living shit out of him. Mac's. 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. "Don't ask me about it now. Under another name,—not my own hateful one,—I will strive to distinguish myself in some foreign service, and win myself a reputation, or perish honourably.
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