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“I’m not gentle. "Lean on me," said Jack. " Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. She was finally dead, going to Hell. "How!" exclaimed Sheppard. " "And you expect me to believe you after what has passed?" "I do; and, more than that, I expect you to thank me. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire.
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