" Blueskin, meanwhile, having drained and replenished his glass, commenced chaunting a snatch of a ballad:— Once on a time, as I've heard tell. You seem to want this chap out of Canton. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. \"He still likes you, I believe. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. It was the girl. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart.
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