No matter. Upon leaning back, he commented, “You look so sad. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. " "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction. 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.
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