"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. Would to God I had. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue.
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