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” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. ” He replied. ” Lucy said, watching people mechanically pump quarters into the till. My only love is for my poor lost son. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. ‘I have the means to compel you. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. . 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.
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