"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. But get up behind, Blueskin. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. And there was that dress of hers! She must be warned that she had been imposed upon. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch.
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