If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. Say something. " "Perhaps I read of it somewhere. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. Of course, I don't believe she's what you would call flush. I think too much about myself.
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