" "He shall go through the whole course," replied Blueskin, with a ferocious grin, "unless he comes down to the last grig. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. Of course. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle.
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