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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 cannot break my vow. 1. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. Wood; "to be sure you are! I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy!" "I thought you sent for me, Ma'am," replied the widow, humbly. There’s nothing a girl can do that isn’t sweated to the bone.
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