And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. 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. We’ve brought a carriage to take you back to London, and I’ve settled with Trodger, who has just given me a coherent account of the affair. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. I had to stay in school no matter how sick I was. Brown or Jones, I dare say. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house.
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