” The dinner came to an end at last, and the whiskered waiter presented his bill and evacuated the apartment and closed the door behind him with an almost ostentatious discretion. 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. “Eight, Cavendish Square. ” There was a long silence. . She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. “I am getting plain,” she said, with a little shudder.
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