” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. 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. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us. While the watermen were contending with the eddies occasioned by the fall below the bridge, Jonathan observed a perceptible shudder run through Trenchard's frame. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth.
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