" "Don't listen to him, father," cried Thames, unconscious of what was passing; "there are plenty of people outside. 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. “Bother!” and decided that this was not so, and would not look to right or left again. They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest.
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