"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. The next hour makes, or mars you for ever. Capes, do you think. ” He threw his head back.
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