In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. We shall never have an heir, you and I! My family is crumbling; all of my brothers are dead. " "What for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours.
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