CHAPTER I. "Come Bess,—no whimpering. . ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. ‘That’s what comes of disarming yourself. Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk. So soft.
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