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. ’ Her lips parted, but she did not speak. Good night. "I wonder if you will understand what this kindness means to me? I am so terribly wise—and so wofully ignorant!" CHAPTER XII The doctor shifted his books and magazines to the crook of his elbow. There's one person in the house whom I wouldn't frighten for the world.
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