“Yes,” she said, very faintly. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. You can enjoy him and then drink him up. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. He was entranced as she walked towards him. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. He’ll survive. It may not be just, it may not be fair, but things are so.
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