" With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. "Medicine cannot save mo now. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. "My child! my child!" exclaimed Mrs. "Now—begin. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. He refused.
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