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They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. " "Prolonging the misery. “Please stop fighting me. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. ” “That is quite untrue,” she declared cheerfully.
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