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A pitiful thing the gift to-day That is dross and nothing worth, Though if it had come but yesterday, It had brimmed with sweet the earth; A fading rose in a death-cold hand, That perished in want and dearth."
Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him, though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes, and noticed the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, he was still incredulous. "How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. "What do you want with me?" "Much!" Marley's voice, no doubt about it. "Who are you?"
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