How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral 435 XXVII. 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. " "It may be; but if it shortens the distance and lightens the journey, I care not," retorted the widow, who seemed by this reproach to be roused into sudden eloquence. And I think I will indeed blow off your imbecile head. ’ The door closed behind them both and Gerald was alone with Melusine.
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