Destruction everywhere marked its course. Using the shirt, she cleaned away the blood. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. He broke his arms in two places and several bones in his right hand. She wished to view Sebastian again if only to reaffirm that there was a human being whose appearance remained unaltered by the vagaries of time and memory. 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. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions.
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