‘You do not know how I am like my mother. 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. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. Wild has doubled his offer, and the governor has likewise proclaimed a reward of one hundred guineas for Jack's apprehension. It did not seem quite fair. I tell you once more, I'll say and do nothing to get you into trouble. ” She was silent.
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