No police officers or lurking storms were anywhere in sight. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. Not at all. It would be the culmination of her plan. "You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable. ‘I’m following a scent. Manning,” she said, “for a time—Will you tell no one? Will you keep this—our secret? I’m doubtful—Will you please not even tell my aunt?” “As you will,” he said. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. And when they came to the gallows, Jack leaped out of the cart, and the hangman tied up Jonathan instead—ha! ha! How the mob shouted and huzzaed—and I shouted too—ha! ha! ha!" "Mother!" cried Jack, unable to endure this agonizing scene longer.
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