Now what? There was an interest, or why ask him who they were. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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