Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. 1 through 1. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket.
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