” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. " Jack was about to comply; but not liking the man's manner, he walked on. 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. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day.
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