Jack's mouth was coarse and large; Darrell's small and exquisitely carved, with the short, proud upper lip, which belongs to the highest order of beauty. 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. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her.
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