“It’s not. But she had loved the man. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk. 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. " "Pshaw!" said Wild. You keep on coming truer, after you have seemed to come altogether true.
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