![]() ![]() Somehow I keep thinking of poor Tom and how he hung there in his chains. ![]() It is strange how in moments of great crisis the mind whips back to childhood. If we killed women for their tongues all men would be murderers.”Īmbrose walks off down the road, Philip barfs, throws a stone at Dead Tom Jenkyn, feels guilty about it, then scampers off down the road after Ambrose.įast-forward eighteen years, and Philip, now twenty-five, is thinking a whole lot about Tom Jenkyn (and not at all, it should be noted, about Tom Jenkyn’s murdered wife, but you know, what else is new (pauses to glare in the general direction of the 8 billion Ted Bundy/Charles Manson biopics)): ![]() It’s true his wife was a scold, but that was no excuse to kill her. “Here is Tom Jenkyn, honest and dull, except when he drank too much. “See what a moment of passion can bring upon a fellow,” said Ambrose. ![]() Because, sure.Īmbrose pokes at the body with a stick-because, again, sure-and launches into a Life Lesson: Our narrator, Philip, opens with a memory of being seven years old, going to see a hanged man with his twenty-seven year old cousin and guardian, Ambrose. My Cousin Rachel, Chapter One: Foreboding, foreboding, foreboding.įirst sentence: They used to hang men at Four Turnings in the old days. ![]()
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