"Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. But the world didn’t do that. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. "They say her son's taken at last, and is to be hanged. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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