. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. “If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. 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. Have you anything to ask me?” Ann Veronica readjusted her mind hastily. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. ” She rose up. “They make me want to shout,” said Mr.
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