But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. Many of the soldiers dismounted, and called for drink. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. "Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. I will do my utmost. "And so shall I," replied Edgeworth Bess. .
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