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. And think things out. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. Nothing else matters. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick.
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