9. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. She looked at him curiously. ‘I live in Kent. But it appears he was picked up by fishermen, and carried to France, where he has remained ever since, and where it would have been well for him if he had remained altogether.
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