Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. ” He stated. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets.
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