You’re mine. “You must tell me the truth, please. His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. My will never faltered. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly.
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