Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before.
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