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Blood, they say, won't come out. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. Having seen every precaution taken to ensure his safe custody, he departed, muttering to himself, "I shall yet live to see him hanged—I shall live to see him hanged. ‘It is to say goodbye, you understand. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. The Closing Scene.
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