"And I," muttered Jack. “Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously. “Where am I?” he muttered. The reward is mine. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. Still —there you are!” He paused. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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