Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. She did not wince.
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