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. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. . “How dare you!” They were both astonished at the other’s strength. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. ’ The gentleness in his voice nearly overset her. "You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said. .
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