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"And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. " "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. "It'll ease your mind. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are.

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