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A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. “I will go,” he said. Nobody who cared. Wood obeyed. “Really, daddy, I am sorry for all I have done to put you out. Suddenly she understood. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. 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. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income.
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