The annihilation of the Terror which fascinated her and troubled her dreams o' nights. 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. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. "And I," muttered Jack. I even offered him back the half interest he had sold to me. This will be safer than cutting his throat on shore. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase.
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