"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. The idea of your being a failure would never have occurred to me. . Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. "Look quick, Blueskin, and be cursed to you!" was growled in the deep tones of Jonathan Wild. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it.
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