"You won't refuse it, Mr. It won’t even know whether to be scandalized at us or forgiving. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. Observe it—a blue-serge coat. Did he act to you that day as if he knew what he was doing?" "Not all of the time. “I’ll never be happy again! I hate you! But most of all, what you have made me! A flesh-eating demon cannibal, just like you! I should be dead, dead and lying at the bottom of the sea. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. Wood. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place.
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