“Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. ‘You should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you. 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. ” Lord, he was right! But softly now. His sister appeared.
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