At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. “What can you do?” she asked. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. The sing-song girls in Hong-Kong are far handsomer.
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