I knew it. “Katy Pfister. “She’s going to have some sort of meal with the Widgetts down the Avenue, and go up with them. We want to celebrate, and we want you to help us. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. His face fell. She expanded that. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. 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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