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. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. ” “Do you drink blood?” He stood up. They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly.
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