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” She nodded in the affirmative. It seemed to make her sister downcast beyond any precedent. 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. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. If he had eaten food, this wouldn't have happened. We leave England to-night. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you. ” Manning tapped with his racket on the turf through some moments of silence. The watch was again consulted.
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