“What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. He'll mend, I hope. . The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. CHAPTER X Ah Cum was himself puzzled. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned.
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