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Without you I should never have recovered either health or reason. " "Cannot?" echoed Jack, a slight smile crossing his features. Mrs. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. “I can’t. What are you going to tell me?" "Nothing. ’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested. " "Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs.
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