" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. Men usually do. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. "Have you never an out-o-the-vay corner, into vich you could shtow these troublesome warmint?" observed Abraham. It was bleeding again. FOOTNOTES: [A] At the hospital of Saint Giles for Lazars, the prisoners conveyed from the City of London towards Tyburn, there to be executed for treasons, felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof to drink, as their last refreshing in this life.
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