Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. Could she go through with it? She must. A familiar figure was making his way towards them. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. 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.
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