“I don’t know, John. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. We'll come back for that by and by, and the dressing-gown.
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