And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Jonathan again seized her, when the door was thrown open, and Thames Darrell, followed by Mr. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. 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. Ants. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret.
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