So she built a shrine. 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. Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. She could not say who, not yet. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin.
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