He said nothing. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom.
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