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"Young man, young man," I think to myself, "if your shoulders were bent like a bandy and your knees bowed out as mine be, till there is not an inch of straight bone or gristle in 'ee, th' wouldstn't go doing hard work for play 'a b'lieve." 'True, true, upon my song.
Bess, lass, thou'd believe me, thou wouldst wouldstn't thou? turning to the poor dumb form with wild appeal. 'I am sure, said Margaret, 'I am sure you did not know: it was quite sudden. But now, you see, it would be different; you do know; you do see her lying there; you hear what she said with her last breath. You will not go? No answer. In fact, where was he to look for comfort?
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