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His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. "I knew his poor mother, and for her sake I'll not see this done," cried John Dump. “That’s it,” she said.
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