"Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him. My son went down after his death. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. with you.
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