"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. “Thank you,” she said coolly. I’ve—dreads. “How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know.
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